The rain came back the next day — not the soft kind that whispered on windows, but the kind that punished the earth. The kind that turned every sound into a reminder of something ending.
Meera stood outside the administrative block, soaked to her elbows, her camera bag slung over one shoulder like a shield. She hadn't planned to come. Aarav's message had been clear: Don't.But silence never sat right with her.
The hearing was scheduled for ten. The halls were already full of murmurs. Students gathered outside pretending not to stare. Faculty passed by, whispering words like scandal and embarrassment and code of conduct.
When she entered the hallway, she saw him.
Aarav stood near the Dean's door, flanked by two board members. His uniform shirt was pressed, his hair slightly damp. He looked… calm. Terrifyingly calm. Like a man who'd already rehearsed the ending.
Their eyes met for one second — enough for her to see the decision there.
"Aarav," she called, stepping closer, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly. A warning.
The Dean opened the door. "Let's proceed."
Inside, the air felt too thin.The walls smelled of old paper and formality.
Aarav spoke first. His voice was steady, polite, devastatingly controlled.
"I take full responsibility for the incident," he said. "The exhibit, the leaked video — all of it. Meera wasn't involved beyond what I pushed her into."
Meera froze.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, voice cracking.
He didn't look at her. "It was my idea to include her in the show. My idea to spend time after hours. The video shows my actions, not hers. If anyone crossed a line, it was me."
"That's not true," Meera said loudly, stepping forward, but the Dean raised a hand.
"Miss Joshi, please," the Dean said. "You'll get a chance to speak."
Aarav continued, as if reciting something he'd memorized. "I abused my influence as a senior and project head. I manipulated the system to favor her. She never consented to anything inappropriate. I alone should face disciplinary action."
His tone was clinical. Detached. As though he was talking about someone else entirely.
Meera's heartbeat roared in her ears. "Stop it!" she said, turning toward him. "Don't do this!"
He looked at her finally, just for a moment — calm eyes, the faintest flicker of sadness. "It's already done," he said softly.
The verdict came quickly.Aarav's scholarship — revoked.His research project — suspended.A note added to his record for "academic misconduct."
The Dean sighed as if this were mercy. "We'll consider this matter closed. Miss Joshi, you may continue your program without consequence."
Without consequence.The words felt hollow.
She didn't remember walking out of the building, only the rain slapping against her face. When she finally stopped moving, she was standing under the awning near the parking lot, breath shaking, water dripping from her hair.
Aarav was there, leaning against the stone wall like he'd been waiting for her. His blazer was soaked through. The rain had flattened his composure into something raw.
"Why?" she demanded. "Why would you do that?"
He looked at her like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Because I could handle the blame. You couldn't."
"That's not your choice!" she shouted. "You don't get to decide what I can or can't handle! You don't get to ruin yourself for me!"
He smiled faintly — the saddest, smallest smile she'd ever seen. "I already did. A long time ago."
"You keep saving me from choices you stole," she said, tears mixing with rain.
"And you keep letting me," he whispered.
The words gutted her.
She stepped closer, furious and heartbroken all at once. "Do you think this fixes anything?"
"No," he said. "But it ends something."
"I didn't ask you to end it."
"I know." His voice broke slightly. "That's why I had to."
She stared at him — the boy who had once seemed untouchable, now standing like a man stripped of everything except quiet regret.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn piece of paper — her photo from the gallery, the one of the running boy. He held it out. "Keep this. You should have something that was always yours."
Her hand trembled as she took it. "And what do you keep?"
He stepped back into the rain. "Nothing," he said simply. "That's the point."
He walked away without looking back.The downpour swallowed his outline, turning him into a blur — a shape dissolving into gray.
Meera watched until the world was nothing but rain and her own reflection in the wet pavement. She wanted to call out, to undo his sacrifice, to tell him he didn't have to be her shield anymore.But the words stayed trapped behind her teeth.
For the first time, she understood what freedom actually cost.